All you sinners, stand up, sing 'Hallelujah'
by owlwayssandforever
Summary: A little bit of trying to rescue Killian from the Underworld and a little bit of relationship stuff afterward.


**_A/N: So I really don't hate Milah or anything, but for some reason I just couldn't get on board with the idea that everyone from Killian's past will be helpful to Emma and the others in the Underworld, so I wrote a thing. Lots of feels and angst ahead, so be warned. But I do hope you enjoy. Rated, well, whatever you want to rate foul language._**

* * *

His life wasn't exactly awful, but it wasn't exactly spectacular either. He had a really hot girlfriend, he had to give himself that. Most days they were miserable together though. Especially since he could not seem to give her the one thing she wanted more than anything – a child. The fought near every day, about that and many other things, and it seemed as though he just couldn't do anything right. He thought they must have been happy once, had vague, almost dream-like memories of cheerful days with her, but they were always on the outskirts of his mind, like a word on the tip of your tongue that you just can't remember. Killian Jones was never quite sure why he didn't leave Milah. Cowardice, he supposed. He had thought about it, more than once, but she always seemed to know, and she would look at him with a crazy possessive gleam in her eye and all considerations of fleeing their loveless relationship vanished.

Until the day a beautiful blonde woman in a red leather jacket turned up on his doorstep and looked at him like he had hung the damn moon and lit the stars, and he had _never_ seen anyone look at him that way in his life. By gods he wanted to see that expression again though.

"Can I help you?" Killian asked her, and he saw her face fall a little.

"My – my name is Emma Swan," she stammered a little. "I'm, um, looking for a Killian Jones?"

"Aye, that'd be me," he replied, and she didn't seem at all surprised by this information. He wondered vaguely if he had met her before and forgotten. She did seem familiar, but he couldn't place from where. He waited for her to continue talking, but she merely gazed at him, the smile on her face replaced by a look of confliction, as though there were a battle waging inside her mind. "Did you need me for something?"

"Oh, right, um, yeah." She blinked rapidly and shook her head to clear her mind. "I, um, I'm a journalist, and I'm interviewing residents of the town for a book I'm writing – small town charm and all that good stuff."

"Ah, I see, well," he heard Milah coming down the stairs, and his gut instinct told him that should would not approve of this harmless new visitor. "Now isn't the best time, love, but perhaps we could meet again another time?"

"Sure," she answered with a shrug. "I passed by a little diner earlier, how about coffee there tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds lovely, anytime before 8 should work," he told her, thinking Milah would be at work then and thus blissfully unaware of his activities.

"Great," Emma said, smiling a shy little grin, and he couldn't help but return it. "I'll be there around 6:30, probably, I like to get an early start on the day."

"Right then, love, I shall see you in the morning," he grinned at her, and then he stepped back inside the shabby little house and closed the door behind him.

He never saw the lone tear drop that ran down Emma's cheek as she turned away from him, walking down the street unsure of how to continue.

\\\

They met every day for over a week, and Killian would have been lying if he had said there was even a small part of him that didn't look forward to spending time with Emma Swan each morning. He got up earlier and earlier to each day to meet her, so they could have more time before he had to leave so as to avoid Milah's ire. They talked about nothing, and everything, and he had never felt more open, more understood. He learned that she had a difficult childhood (much like himself), and that her relationship with her family was complicated, though they loved each other greatly (how he wished he could say the same). He discovered that she had a son named Henry, and he was shocked at how young she must have been to have a lad so old already (he learned it was not through happy circumstances). He told Emma about his life at home, dull and unhappy though it may be, and she gave him understanding looks and sympathetic nods. After a few days, she reached out and took his hand while he was telling her of his brother (whom he had wounded irreparably), and her touch warmed him. He thought frequently of how much he enjoyed his time with her, of how natural this new – friendship? – seemed to come, of how he felt something that very nearly might be called love for this woman.

It was during just such thoughts on the tenth morning in a row that they were having coffee, that Milah stormed into the diner, rage rolling off of her like a tempest. _This_ , he thought to himself _, was precisely what I had hoped to avoid_. He shrank a little in his seat at the booth, practically willing himself invisible, though it did little good.

"What the fuck is this, Killian?" Milah hissed as she approached, her eyes manic, and he genuinely good not understand why she was so upset. He had known she would be, but it still seemed completely illogical. And the more time he had spent with Emma, the more he had a feeling that there was something that he was missing.

"Um, Milah, this is Emma Swan, she's –"

"I know what she is," Milah cut across him viciously, and she turned her attention to the blonde across the table from him. "So, you're here to take him away?"

"What?" Killian blinked in confusion. "No, Milah, I think, that's completely absurd…" he stammered, but the women ignored him completely.

"That's the plan," Emma replied, standing up to face the raging brunette, hands on her hips, and Killian's jaw dropped so far, he would have sworn it hit the ground. There was _definitely_ something he was missing.

"He doesn't even remember," Milah snarled, and Killian could swear her voice sounded wrong – like it was echoing from everywhere in the room all at once.

"There's a quick fix for that," Emma answered cockily, and she moved quickly, before he or Milah could react. She reached over to where he was standing (he hadn't even realized he had stood up) and grabbed his lapel, tugging him to her and pressing her lips to his.

The effect was instantaneous. His eyes blew wide as the memories flooded back, of Emma, of their life, their love, their sacrifices. He remembered giving his life to save her family, to save her. He remembered dying. _So this must be Hell_. He wanted, more than anything, to pull Emma close and kiss her until they ran out of oxygen, but Milah began to shriek like a bloody banshee, and Killian spun to face her, his arm out across Emma as though to protect her. But Milah was no longer the pretty woman he had once loved – he face was contorted with rage, eyes gleaming red as her fingernails lengthened into talons and wings began to sprout from her shoulder blades.

"You cannot take him, he belongs to us now," Milah boomed, but the voice that issued from her mouth was no longer hers. It was low and loud, echoing through Killian's head and making his ears ring, somewhere between a hiss and a growl.

"Watch me," Emma snarled in response, and Killian felt magic radiating off of her in waves as her temper mounted.

She took up an offensive stance and let loose a stream of golden light that hit Milah square in the chest, doing nothing but causing her to hiss in anger.

"You'll have to do better than that," Milah taunted, rising into the air as her wings unfurled.

A second jet of light burst from Emma's fingertips, but Milah ducked, and the magic merely shattered a shelf of plates on the wall of the diner. Talon-like fingers reached out and grabbed at Killian's arm, hooking into the flesh and drawing him close as she hissed threats to the blonde. Another stream of light from Emma's hands hit Milah hard enough to make her release Killian, and he backed away as quickly as possible.

"Killian, go, find Regina and the others," she told him in a commanding voice, but he stood firm.

"I am not bloody leaving you, Swan," he growled back, stepping closer to her.

"I've got this, but you need to get out of here while you can," she answered, "and if you don't leaving willingly, I will force you out of this damn diner."

"Swan…"

"Go!" she yelled as she sent another spurt of magic at Milah.

Killian back out the front door, hating every moment of moving willingly away from her, but he trusted her, and if she didn't follow him _very quickly_ , he could return with Regina as backup.

(She came running down the street after him mere minutes later, panting and shoving him ahead her, muttering about 'not much time'.)

(They barely made it out ahead the fury-Milah.)

* * *

He could tell something was bothering Emma. After their initial happy reunion, she seemed to become lost in her thoughts, the radiant smile that had been lighting up her face replaced by a contemplative frown.

"Love?" Killian asked, tentatively breaking through her stupor.

"Mmm?" she hummed by way of an answer, not really sounding as though she were paying him any attention.

"Emma, love, is something bothering you?" he tried again, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"No, of course not," she replied, flashing him a smile that he could tell was fake. It was all wrong, it didn't reach her eyes, it barely even turned the corners of her mouth upward.

"Please don't lie to me, love," he said, taking a deep breath to gather the courage to continue. "If you don't wish for me to stay here, Emma, if you're still upset over the things I said, I wouldn't blame you. If you want to end our –"

"Don't you even think about finish that sentence, Killian," she snapped, whirling on him. "I did not go all the way to the Underworld, fight your demonic ex-girlfriend, trick Hades himself, and rip my heart in two, just to bring you back and then have either one of us break this off because we're fucking scared, or our walls have gone up, or, or anything else really!"

"Then what is bothering you? And don't tell me nothing," he warned, feeling his temper grow thin in response to her outburst.

"Really, Killian, it's silly," she said, looking at him with softness in her emerald eyes, but he didn't miss the movement her fingers made as they brushed over her forearm, the precise spot where his tattoo had been permanently inked.

"Emma…" He let out a low growl of frustration.

"I'm just feeling a little jealous," she answered, crossing her arms over her chest, as though trying to protect herself from – feeling.

"Of what?" he asked, but he had a sneaking suspicion what the answer would be, and it irritated him enough that he did not step closer to her or attempt to comfort her. "Let me guess, Milah."

Her silence was enough to confirm his accusation, and Killian felt his irritation burn and boil in his stomach, turning into a seething anger.

"You're jealous of a woman who's been dead for centuries, Swan?" he clarified, voice growing louder.

"Killian, I know," Emma sighed, trying desperately to placate him before this fight got out of hand (the darkness had left them a little raw and prone to angry outbursts sometimes). "Look, it's just that you, well, you had a life with her there, and I wonder sometimes if you don't think about that now. If you don't look at everything we have, and can have in the future, and don't wish it were with her."

"I was never engaged to her, Swan," he spat in reply, and clearly Emma's explanation had done nothing to soothe his anger. "I wasn't the one who agreed to marry a bloody demonic monkey!"

"Apparently I'm not the only one who's jealous," she muttered in reply, the cheap blow at her relationship with Walsh stinging her pride and triggering some anger of her own.

"Of course I am, Swan!" he yelled, ears turning crimson. He seemed to lose all power of coherent speech after that, stammering through the thoughts that were swirling in his mind. "You – he – you and him – and Baelfire, of course – _together_ – and we aren't – but them –"

"Killian!" Emma interjected loudly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I have been very patient, Emma," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at her, much of the anger dissipating the moment his blue eyes met her green ones. "And I want to be patient, that's not the problem. You and me, it's – it should be different, special. But sometimes, I can't help but think about them, with you, and their hands on you, and I want to punch them."

"You're upset that I slept with Neal and Walsh?" Emma clarified, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I – I don't know, yes, perhaps," he suddenly looked deflated, as though all the energy had gone from his body and actually made him smaller. His shoulders slouched forwards and his head hung as he looked at the floor, studying his feet carefully. "You loved them," he added after a moment, his voice so quiet, she had to take a moment to be sure of what he had said.

"Just like you loved Milah," Emma replied at last, and he shook his head fervently.

"It's not the same, Swan," he said, his voice firm again, a hint of desperation colouring his tone. "Milah was different, she was never – I loved her, aye, but there was never a future. No thought of it really, not once. We never planned to marry, or have children –" Emma felt a little bit of surprise at the mention of kids, but if Killian noticed, he didn't address it "- or anything beyond what we did every day, beyond sailing the seas and stopping at ports to drink and gamble and – and be merry. But you were going to _marry_ the monkey, Swan. That's a pretty big implication for the future. And I know that when you were younger, you wished to spend a future with Baelfire, you've implied as much many times. And it's just _different_. If things hadn't happened the way they did, if Baelfire hadn't abandoned you or the monkey turned out to be a demonic minion of Zelena, you would have chosen to spend your life with them, and I – I wouldn't have you."

"Killian," Emma answered, reaching out to him and placing her hands on his arms, running them soothingly up and down. "I get that it's different, I do. But you don't need to second-guess what happened in the past. It doesn't matter what might have been otherwise, because Neal _did_ abandon me, and Walsh _did_ turn out to be evil. So who cares about the rest?"

"But what if you change your mind about me?" he said, so quietly, and so insecure, that Emma felt like her heart was breaking.

"Because I've felt this way for other people?" she asked him, and he nodded. Emma took a step closer to him and cradled his face in one hand. "Killian, how long did I run from this? From us?"

"I don't know, love, since Neverland I suppose," he whispered.

"You're wrong. I was running from the moment I tied you to that tree," she smiled at him, and he gave her a watery grin in reply. "Why do you think I ran for so long? Because I have _never_ felt this way for anyone else before. Killian, it took three hundred years for us to be together. I'm not really one for fate, but that's some pretty undeniable proof that this thing we've got going here isn't just some do over of a past fling. This is different for me too – you're different."

"I love you, Emma," he said, pulling her into a tight hug and nuzzling his face into her neck.

"You know how I'm going to prove it?" she asked him, and he shook his head, tickling her with his beard and making her giggle. "I'm going to do something that I've never done for anyone else."

"Aye? What's that?"

"I'm going to give you a pet name," she chuckled, and she thought she heard Killian groan into her skin. "What'dya think, babe?" He definitely did groan. "Sweetie?" He growled a little and nipped at her neck, and she laughed harder. "Honey bun?"

His lips were covering hers as soon as the words were out, preventing her from uttering any more absurd names for him.

"That's not necessary, Swan," he said when he pulled away from her slightly.

"But I think snookums really suits you," she teased, and he pressed his lips to hers again as she started laughing, although he couldn't stop a smile himself.

"I love you too, Killian," Emma whispered to him, resting her forehead against his as she ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His hand was on her back, fingers tracing light circles on her skin through the fabric of her shirt. They stood in silence for a while, not needing to speak anymore, more than content to just hold each other.

"Never," Killian said quietly, a single word disturbing the silence after several minutes.

"What?" she hummed in reply, unsure of what he meant.

"I have _never_ thought of the future we have together," he elaborated, blue eyes boring into her earnestly, "and wished it was with anyone other than you, Emma."

She snuggled closer to him, and his arms wrapped around her more tightly, holding her to him as though his life depended on it.

"I love you," she whispered into his chest, and she heard him almost purring with contentment. "You're all I need."


End file.
